


Someone to Stay

by Ifmyheartshould



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifmyheartshould/pseuds/Ifmyheartshould
Summary: Set in 307, but right after the bed scene. No death scene, I promise; I'm way too sensitive for that. Just a lot of fluff because I'm the sappiest person you'll ever know.Major Inspiration and amazing song: Someone to stay by Vancouver Sleep ClinicNot sure if this is simply a drabble or a continuing work but we shall see.. Maybe





	Someone to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly I'm not completely sure why I wrote this but I'm posting it now to force myself into writing more. I'm not sure if this even counts as a fic but I suppose that's exactly the element I'm working on so any sort of feedback helps.
> 
> I hope this is at least mildly enjoyable ((:

"Clarke,” Lexa steps into the room, her voice uncharacteristically small, fragile even with the sharp click she instills at the end of her name. After getting dressed Lexa had opted to stay in her room, not sure if she'd be able to share yet another goodbye with Clarke, one she was unwilling to hinder with emotion so as to not make it any harder than it already was, for Clarke's sake. 

And maybe even for her own.

But she'd asked one of the guards at her door if Clarke had gone to which he replied with a low, “No, Heda.”

Lexa wasn't surprised. Clarke wasn't known for making things easy.

Clarke turns to see Lexa only a few feet away from the door, still seated on the edge of the bed, her eyes conveying the practiced patience she’s grown accustomed to giving and receiving in light of Lexa's presence. 

The sun only slightly muffled by the curtain of Clarke's balcony casts shadows among her features while setting her hair ablaze, unquestionably the most beautiful thing Lexa's ever seen. Rays of light brighten the blue of her eyes, striking even with the darkness of tragedy that refuses to lose its place. A tragedy Lexa realizes she has never seen Clarke without. She wonders how long it's been there- if it's always been there. 

The thought is slightly more painful than Lexa is willing to admit.

She takes a deep breath and crosses her arms behind her, surreptitiously hiding the slight shake of her fists.

“It’s time.”

Clarke swallows, her eyes cast on her feet as she stands and steps away from the bed. She lifts her head after a moment, nodding firmly at Lexa as she straightens. After fastening her coat, she searches for any loose items around the room that might belong to her. Her search is cut short when she realizes she arrived in Polis with nothing but the clothes on her back. 

“I’ve arranged for one of my men to take all of your belongings to Arkadia,” Lexa says. “He should arrive before the blockade goes into effect.”

Clarke is about to argue that she doesn’t actually have any belongings when Lexa steps toward her, cutting her off before she can even take a breath.

“What I gave you here is still yours, Clarke. The blockade doesn’t change that.” Her voice is still so unbelievably frail that Clarke can hardly stand it. She tries to swallow back the doubt she knows has nothing to do with Lexa's kindness and everything to do with the success of the blockade, but Lexa is looking at her with slightly furrowed brows, with forrest green eyes that gleam with unrestricted tenderness.

Clarke doesn't say anything at first, but after a moment of internal debate she allows herself to say what's on her mind.

“But what if it does?” she lets out in a shaky exhale. Her eyes are unsteady as she looks to Lexa for an infallible solution that won’t come. “What if everything we did here was for nothing? My people haven’t shown any desire for peace, still haven’t even attempted to show some sort of credibility in your eyes, let alone anyone else’s.”

Lexa says nothing, slightly stunned by Clarke's accusations. Her eyes are gentle but refuse to express the approbation Clarke’s words demand, the recognition they deserve utterly deflected even as she inadvertently antagonizes her own people with utmost conviction.

“What if this just leads to another war?”

Lexa straightens, her posture rigid as she considers the possibility of a war. The image of her warriors breaking through the gates of Arkadia and taking down anyone in their path startles her, steals her breath as the sound of swords slicing through the air only to cut through the skin of men alike deafens her for the briefest of seconds.

The thought shouldn't strike her with fear; she's seen it before, knows that taking the life of your enemy is necessary to win a war, one that'll likely lead to peace and stability within the coalition.

But then there's Clarke.

Clarke, who should be safe inside the walls of Polis, but is instead fighting to protect her people. 

She pulls the gun's trigger until an incessant click signals an empty bullet chamber. Her face morphs into one of fear as a warrior approaches her quickly, rigorously pulling his sword behind him and swinging it forward to cut through even the thickest skin.

Of course, he doesn't know that despite the unmistakable solidity in Clarke's posture, there is a softness to her skin, a fragility to her bones and an abundance of compassion encompassing her heart that belies her strength in the eyes of men who do not seek to appreciate one's humanity. 

This warrior is savage, rabid with vengeance that, in this moment, he is not unlike those men.

“Lexa? Hey,” Clarke regards her with a worried look in her eyes, squeezing her forearm in an attempt to bring her out of her daze.

Lexa snaps back into reality with a sort of frenzy, the trepidation in her eyes slowly fading as Clarke comes into view. She lets out a long breath as she wills her heart to slow down, giving Clarke a wistful look before squaring her shoulders and pushing down her unease with minimal difficulty. She clears her throat.

“You have to go back and convince them otherwise. You're their leader, Clarke. They'll listen to you,” Lexa’s attempt to reassure her doesn't exactly have the desired effect. She watches as Clarke slowly drags her hand out of reach, setting a distance between them before making her way back to the bed. She hesitates at first, running her hand along the furs before sinking onto them. 

“And. . . and what if they don't?” She mumbles, her eyes fixed on the invisible patterns she swirls with her fingertips. Clarke wishes she could fool herself into believing that staying in Polis would benefit their cause as some sort of strategic power move, but knows that thought is merely a product of wishful thinking. And yet her conscience posing a valid argument against her ulterior motives is as wise as it is pointedly ignored. 

Her mind trips over a plethora of excuses, but she knows she's gone too far when she considers telling Lexa that she'd feel threatened among her own people.

Lexa would probably then disregard jus nou drein jus daun and declare war on Arkadia herself, Clarke decides.

“You'll find a way to persuade them,” Lexa persists.

Clarke huffs and Lexa wonders why she is being quite so insistent. Surely she would want to try and fix the mistakes made by her people rather than let them suffer a gruesome fate, as all true leaders would. It wouldn't be the first time she's taken on the weight of responsibility, nor the last, as Clarke's inclination to save her people is backed up by loyalty and unhealthy levels of stubbornness.

However, what Clarke says next causes Lexa to believe that she is arguing to stay for another reason entirely.

“What if I could do more for them by just staying here?” Clarke pleads. She winces slightly as she recalls Octavia’s response to that question, clenching her hands into fists as she waits for Lexa’s similar reply. 

Though when Clarke forces herself to look back at Lexa, she finds green eyes sparkling with contentment and a soft smile dancing on pink lips. The thought of Clarke wanting to stay for no other reason than being near Lexa is as pleasing as it is heart wrenching and Lexa must remind herself why Clarke's departure is necessary. 

“I wish that were the case,” she murmurs. And she does. Truly, there would be no better circumstance. Even with the constant threat of war looming over her head, Lexa knows she would choose to have Clarke by her side, away from the potential disaster she knows is crouched and ready to leap at the slightest provocation both within and outside of Arkadia’s walls. 

But Lexa knows Clarke. She knows she is strong- stubborn and fierce when she needs to be. Her battles have torn her apart, drowned her blood with fear and guilt until there was nothing but shame and hatred coursing through her veins. And Lexa knows she played a part in Clarke's inability to find herself- to trust herself as the leader of her people. And yet on the brink of another war, she is determined to save her people all over again. 

She knows this and she thinks that maybe every attempt to ensure Clarke's safety would prove to be defective, no matter the lengths of her effort. But Lexa is no stranger to adversity; she can fight battle after battle, accept the pain brought on by the death of her people, choose her duty as Heda over everything else, regardless of what it costs her in the dead of night. She can do this again and again until there is no need for war. 

And she knows Clarke can, too, for Clarke is more than her pain and suffering and misery; she is strength and intelligence, adaptability and courage. She would do almost anything to instill a sense of peace and safety within her people without question or regard for her own wellbeing. 

She was simply born to lead. 

Beyond her suit of armor, though- Wanheda, Leader of the Sky People- Clarke is just a girl. She is a mass of compassion and vulnerability with a longing for meaning in a seemingly meaningless world. She deserves more than what the world is willing to offer her, more than fear and war and a means for survival. 

After everything she's gone through to keep the peace, she should not be burdened with the Skaikru who so carelessly put their lives at stake only for Clarke to save them at the very last minute. 

Lexa wishes she could shoulder some of that weight now, her urge to protect the girl from the sky unwavering even when challenged by the undefeatable- the undefeatable and the reckless, faithless usurpers residing in Arkadia. And if direct attempts at keeping Clarke safe are for not, she will venture unsuspecting paths to protect her from attacks one is unable to return from. Even if it is beyond the Commander's obligations. 

Clarke stands after a long minute of contemplation, taking time to collect herself before making her way to the doors.  
She knows her pleading is futile, as only she has the power to decide whether or not she'll leave Polis. Lexa is simply doing her a favor, reminding her that her responsibilities come before anything else. It's necessary, she knows. 

But Clarke is terribly conflicted; her desire to stay with Lexa is fighting harder than she could have ever imagined. It almost pains her to succumb to her instincts as a leader. 

Clarke’s hand reaches for the door handle, sure that she will immediately be greeted by Titus, impatient and annoyed with her presence. The sound of Lexa's voice stops her from pushing it open, however. 

“Clarke. ” She is unable to stop herself as the implications of Clarke’s departure finally force the emotion from her throat. Clarke turns once it's clear that Lexa won't continue until they're face to face. 

Her eyes immediately land on Heda’s jaw, clenched and demanding attention away from the eyes of a girl suddenly struggling to keep her tears at bay. Clarke sags under the weight of her gaze, lips subconsciously brought down into a frown. 

Lexa breathes heavily, unable to slow her racing heart as Clarke stands across from her, eyes already losing the strength of her resolve. 

Lexa takes a step closer and Clarke loses the battle.

They meet halfway, eyes searching and hands hesitating in the space between them for less than a second before Lexa's pulling Clarke into an embrace, hands splayed on her back as Clarke's arms come around her neck. 

“Clarke, I. . .” Lexa loosens her grip in favor of looking into her eyes, one hand finding purchase on Clarke's waist and the other stroking against the softness of her cheek, suddenly desperate to keep her close for as long as possible. Clarke’s hands fall to Lexa’s waist. “I'll do everything in my power to keep you and our people safe,” she promises. Clarke clutches her tighter, a broken sigh leaving her lips as she reaches up and tangles her fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, pressing their foreheads together and closing her eyes. 

Lexa takes a breath, trying and failing to keep her voice from breaking any further. “But if anything goes wrong, Clarke,” she croaks, hand falling away from her face only to find Clarke's hand at her hip, immediately intertwining their fingers. 

She tugs until they're settled in the space between them, squeezing once to prompt Clarke to meet her gaze. “I will seek you out myself.”

Clarke can hear the sincerity in her tone, as strong and sure as the determination in the green of her eyes, and she can't help but think of the night Lexa had vowed unconditional loyalty to her, bowed down before her with steady eyes and an air of intensity she couldn't escape if she wanted to. 

It's there now, alive and pulsing in the space between them like a third heartbeat, and Clarke finds herself almost dizzy with the proclamation still fresh in her ears as she leans in further, capturing Lexa's lips with her own. 

Lexa thinks about the words she'd almost said only hours ago and tries to press their meaning into Clarke's own lips, intensifying their kiss with each passing second. 

She feels the moisture of tears against her cheeks before long and believes for a moment that they are her own. Clarke breaks away from their kiss with a quiet sob and Lexa's chest aches.

Clarke doesn't hesitate. Even breathless and choking on emotion, she manages to push the words past her lips and into the space between them.

“I love you.” 

Lexa's breath shudders out of her while she searches Clarke's face. She finds her truth in the way slightly chapped lips tremble; in the way cerulean eyes shine with tears and earnesty; in the way her brows furrow with an effort to hold herself together. “I love you,” Lexa echoes. “Don't be afraid.”

“I don't want to leave you.”

Lexa smiles sadly, the words she's wanted to say hovering on the tip of her tongue for just a few seconds. 

Clarke clutches her hand tightly, warmth blossoming in her chest at Lexa's soft look. She doesn't want to lose this. She doesn't want to be without the comfort Lexa provides freely within these tower walls. She wants to stay, for Lexa more than anything else. “I want you,” she emphasizes. 

“I'll always be with you.” It's a statement. Lexa's voice is strong and sure and Clarke knows- she knows it's not a promise, one easily broken with distance and time, but a fact just as true as any other.

She knows and she knows and it's not enough to quell the pain of leaving her home, but it's enough to instill her fight.

In this very moment, Clarke will fight for a lost cause, even with the knowledge that her real fight begins with her surrender. 

But outside of Polis, she will fight until there is no need to fight.

She will fight until she is met with the promise of a better future.

She will fight until she has her maybe someday. 

Ai gonplei nou ste odon.


End file.
